


July 15: Birdsong

by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)



Series: July Prompt Table [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Camp Nanowrimo, Derek Hale - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, Not Beta Read, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Rating is for Mentioned Torture, Recovery after Injury, Refers to Torture, refers to canonical character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandblade/pseuds/LupusScintilla
Summary: Derek woke slowly. He blinked but found there wasn’t much more light even once he could focus. He was warm where he lay, but when he turned his head to look out the window it shifted his covers and he felt the slight sting of night-cool air against his neck.





	July 15: Birdsong

Derek woke slowly. He blinked but found there wasn’t much more light even once he could focus. He was warm where he lay, but when he turned his head to look out the window it shifted his covers and he felt the slight sting of night-cool air against his neck. 

Derek drew in a large breathe. He was in his own bed. He stank of his own blood and gore, but not of the room he’d last been awake in. He moved his body a little and felt clean against the sheets. He’d been washed before they put him down to sleep and heal. 

The skin of his nostrils protested at him flaring them, but.

Cora had been here. Stiles. John. Scott and the other wolves scents were mixed and faint. Wolfsbane and, he wasn’t certain of the other plant. It made him think of summer and playing outside with Laura and Peter and… Thinking of such things wasn’t going to make him heal any faster.

He had no idea how long the rogue hunters had had him, but he had an idea of what they’d done to him. How long he’d take to heal was anyone’s guess. How everyone was going to react was less difficult to guess.

Derek scented the air again. The preserve was drifting in on the slight wind outside and it smelled like morning was coming. The sun would be rising soon, but the sky wasn’t yet light. He hoped he could stay awake to see it rise. He missed all that came with it.

♠

Derek tried to roll, but it pulled at the damaged skin of his gut and he made himself still again. It was light, now. He’d missed the sunrise. He pushed the air out of his lungs and pushed down the absurd surge of loss he felt at not having been awake to see the day begin. He’d be alive again tomorrow, at least. He could do it then. Or the day after that, or. 

He supposed he shouldn’t be too annoyed at himself for worrying about if tomorrow would come; he’d just spent an indeterminate number of days chained to a wall in a dark room someplace. He’d been forced into his beta form and drugged compliant and barely conscious. He remembered, barely, the stink of others dying, and his whimpers of regret as,

Fuck. They used his claws to kill. They made him do to strangers what the Alphas had made him do to Boyd. The room in front of him was suddenly blurry and his cheeks were heating and he needed to calm down lest he alert the whole house that he was freaking out.

He clenched his fists over and over under the covers until he felt his heart rate drop. There must only be non-wolves in the house with him, or they’d have come to investigate the erratic pounding in his chest.

Derek closed his eyes and focused on what he could feel and hear outside himself. The bed was warm and he was buried under several more blankets than usual if the weight was anything to go by. He focussed on his ears. 

He’d not missed all of the new day’s gifts. 

There was a familiar twittering that warmed his heart far better than the extra blankets warmed his body. Derek may have missed the sunrise and the sounds and the smells of the forest stirring, but he had a different kind of awakening to look forward to. There were two people in the kitchen, both male, and the noise of them moving around was wonderful: clinking cups and jars opening and the toaster popping and liquid being poured.

Better still was that of one of the people in the kitchen was sharing a seemingly endless string of words with the other. Derek couldn’t quite make out the topic being expounded, but he strongly suspected it wasn’t that important one way or the other. 

It was like music to his ears. Of all the things he’d thought of chained to yet another wall, in yet another basement? This time it was of that sound. Derek wasn’t going to take the chance that it wouldn’t be here for him to hear tomorrow. It was time. He swallowed and hoped his throat wasn’t still raw from screaming. 

As loud as he could, then. 

“Stiles?” Someone dropped a plate on a counter. “Hey. I’m awake.”

♠

_ Birdsong: [n] the singing or calling of birds, especially songbirds _

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt table I'm using can be found [here](https://inkandblade.tumblr.com/post/162231101861/my-%0Ajuly-campnano-is-set-500-words-minimum-per).
> 
> (Yes, there's still one missing if you're looking at the numbers in the titles. It probably won't get done.)


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